Sonic: War and Chaos ¦ sequel to Dawn of the War
by Escee
Summary: Epic sequel to Dawn of the War. SatAM with Knuckles. Angel Island is in the sea, the search for the emerald continues, and a great war is coming. A new thread is woven, and futility again falls into conflict with hope. Read & Review, please. CH 5 up!
1. Foreword

**WAR and CHAOS**  
Sequel to DAWN of the WAR  
  
aka WAR and ASCENSION  
  
THE SAGA OF ENTROPY: BOOK THE SECOND  
  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES**  
**A FOREWORD TO**  
**WAR AND CHAOS**

This book is the second in a series in which Dawn of the War is the first. If you haven't yet read Dawn of the War, I would highly recommend it; HOWEVER, this book is written such that you do not necessarily have to have read Dawn of the War to understand it. DOTW events that are of importance to this story are recapped as necessary in the text of this story; thus, this book stands alone enough that you can read it without having read its predecessor. However, I would recommend that you read DOTW first so that you can have a greater understanding of its events and its characters. The choice is fully yours: you can either first read Dawn of the War (it is also available here on FF.net), or you can jump right into this book.  
It is also of worth to note that some formatting has been lost in the transduction to FF.net -- namely the use of different fonts. I use a certain font to denote that the speaker is a machine (Nicole or a robot -- Uncle Chuck's text is in the normal font), and another to distinguish certain first-person portions of the text. These font selections do not transfer over to the FF.net version of this story. As a result, some confusion may arise; however, it should not be significant. If you are confused, let me know and I'll clarify. You can also, at your option, view the text at its mirror location on my site, where you can also download the special fonts. selan.escee.com /files/story/warandchaos  
This book is inferred to take place in the SatAM universe; however it also includes Knuckles, the Floating Island (Angel Island), and the Chaotix. As well, it also contains new characters who either arise in this text or were introduced in Dawn of the War (like Laine and Caero) -- note that I handle new characters in such a way that they do NOT unrealistically steal the spotlight from cardinal characters. That's not to say they are unimportant; no, quite the contrary. It simply means that I do not introduce my own homemade characters and simply interpose them into Knothole and make them "one of the bunch." No, I introduce them realistically and they gradually gain acceptance, or perhaps they don't gain acceptance at all. The vast majority of the "original characters" in this story are actually NOT my own "personal characters," but rather characters I invented as a writer specifically for this book (series of books). This is NOT a story about original characters; it is a story about Sonic, Sally, Knuckles, Robotnik, etc, that happens to feature additional characters; just like the vast majority of all fiction, it has a plethora of characters; that doesn't mean they are all major characters vying for the spotlight. I try to handle them realisically.  
The Sonic universe of this book is based on SatAM, while the Knuckles universe is based on Archie (to clarify: the Sonic universe is based on SatAM, NOT Archie!). I have taken my own liberties and thus I do not expect this will reconcile perfectly with the canon, but the canon is its base.  
This is a serious novel, not the product of a caffeine high. I consider it less a generic "fan fiction," lumping it in with the masses, and more a "fan service novel." This is an epic book, written seriously, and is dramatic and emotional at times, though at its core it is an action/adventure.  
I hope you enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

  
  
If you would like to read more of my personal reflections, feel free to continue on with the Formal Foreword below. If not, you can jump straight to the next chapter, where the story begins. 

* * *

**FORMAL FOREWORD**

While this book is technically the third in a series, I have disowned the first book, and thus consider this the second. It is the sequel to _Dawn of the War_. I would recommend reading Dawn of the War before you read this book, as it will give you a greater understanding and appreciation for events mentioned in this book. However, it is not necessary, and this book is capable of standing alone. It does basically pick up where Dawn of the War left off, and the events that took place in the final chapter are necessary for this book, as well as many scattered events throughout the rest of the book, but any event from Dawn of the War that is absolutely vital to the understanding of this book is recapped as necessary. However, I would encourage that you read Dawn of the War first, if only to gain a greater sense of the characters and the trials they have suffered. This book indeed relies heavily on Dawn of the War, and while most of what is needed is briefly remembered in the text of this book as necessary, I think that a much greater understanding and appreciation of it can only be had through actually reading the original book. You will also feel greater empathy and understanding for many of the characters, especially the more minor ones, if you read Dawn of the War first. So, in summary, I truly recommend that you read Dawn of the War before this book, but it is not necessary, and I have written this book such that I hope it can be understood in full without any knowledge of the book that preceded it, though perhaps not appreciated as thoroughly.  
With that out of the way, let me move on. I have always intended a series to emerge from the line of storytelling this book is a part of, and now I believe this will probably become the middle book in a trilogy. Dawn of the War told the story of two worlds -- that of the rebellions who stand against Julian's false reign; and that of Angel Island, the home of the Guardian; and how they were brought abrasively together at Julian's hand in a conflict they could not have fathomed. This book also deals in parallel with the stories of the Guardian and of the Freedom Fighters, but focuses more on war, and on the resolution of the Guardian's questions, and world question. Where the first book dealt more with the Guardian's outer conflict, that of his world being invaded and his quest to be reunited with his friends (whom he regards almost as his family, since his true family has been lost), this book deals more heavily with the Guardian's inner conflict, his emptiness and unanswered questions, his resolve to understand the big picture, and his conflict with the enigmatic voice that speaks to him. As for the other side of the story, as stated, this book focuses more on war than on battle and adventure. And this book also introduces a third parallel, which you'll have to read for yourself.  
I am excited about the path this story has taken, and will take. The first volume -- the one I have now disavowed -- was written so long ago, when I was so young, and it was really just a conglomeration of devastating problems with all-too-quick solutions. Tails was roboticized. So what did they do? Get a deroboticizer, and deroboticize him. But isn't that far too easy? If access to a deroboticizer was simple enough that it could come so quickly after Tails' roboticization, then couldn't they have done this for Bunnie? For every single roboticized Mobian? It's far too simple, especially in the context of the book where it comes far too readily. Antoine gets shot in the head. So what happens? Their future selves transport them back through time to prevent him from being shot. It seems almost as if I was just coming up with ridiculous, monumental problems and conflicts for the story, and then just saying "alright, that seems like a bad thing, so let's use it," without any regard to how the problem might be realistically solved. It's not as if time travel is so absurd and unrealistic an idea that it shouldn't be allowed to be used, but that I was just jumping at whatever crazy solution came up. And in the context of that text, the solutions came as readily as the problems, and it seemed there was no real loss in the story. Everything was resolved, and the heroes had little time to brood on what had happened, because the solutions came so suddenly. No, my writing has evolved, matured since then. The problems are more real now, and there is not always a solution. In fact, in Dawn of the War, there are many problems which are never undone. You can't expect everything to right itself because that's not what happens. In fact, I'd say the majority of the problems in Dawn of the War fail to have perfect solutions by the end. True, some will doubtlessly be resolved during the course of this book, but some clearly do not, or will not. By the end of one chapter in Dawn of the War (WARNING, IF YOU WISH TO READ DAWN OF THE WAR BEFORE THIS BOOK, SKIP THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH, AS IT WILL SPOIL PLOT ELEMENTS FROM SAID BOOK) it is revealed that Robotnik has planted a tracking device on a plane which has been landed in the hidden Freedom Fighter village of Knothole, which is basically their home and has served as such only because Julian doesn't know its location; the chapter ends, and doubtlessly the reader is left wondering how the Freedom Fighters are going to get out of this mess. But what can they do? They do everything they can, realistically; they move the plane out of Knothole, and plant sentries around the borders. But if we believe Julian is smart, he would already have recorded the location of the tracking device, so even if they move it he still has record of the previous location. And he does. And Knothole burns. Because there isn't a perfect solution to everything, and if we believe that every conflict has a perfect resolution, then we already know what is going to happen. Obviously some conflicts will be resolved, unless we're writing in the vein of Requiem for a Dream. But not all. And some devastating things, like the destruction of Knothole, can realistically take place. And the characters realistically handle the consequences. The destruction of Knothole causes Princess Sally, normally strong and assertive, to bear a growing sense of futility, which visibly changes her throughout the rest of the story. Does the destruction of Knothole spell doom for the Freedom Fighters? No; realistically if it were to happen, they would have to handle it. And they do; they find a new location and, at the very end of Dawn of the War, start building a new Knothole. You will see this kind of thing happen a lot. I don't go out of my way to create bad outcomes, but I do try to create conflicts and resolve them realistically. This is something that seems lacking from many stories, and was certainly lacking in the text I have now disavowed.  
Dawn of the War marked a maturation in my writing, and was the first production of which I am truly proud. I hope this book will continue that tradition, and be even greater than the story that precedes it. I have always found myself most at home writing adventure stories, and thus at heart that is what Dawn of the War and this book are, but I have always found myself most pleased with my handling of more emotional and metaphorical and unconventional subjects, which is what pervades this book and the one before it. And so you will probably notice that my style of prose writing is somewhat poetic, but I definitely do not abuse it to the point of obfuscation. While I may use a somewhat unconventionally-poetic style at many points, the actual format of the book is conventional; the story is narrated like any story, with dialog and action. So do not confuse my style of writing with the format of the text, as, unlike books using an unconventional style, my books are not written to be intentionally artsy or confusing or metaphorical; they are written to tell a story. The way I tell that story is conventional, but the style of the words themselves are probably more poetic than many books. And it is meant to be full of emotion, delving deep into more psychological and emotional issues that arise out of the physical conflict. And while the adventure nature of the story is what makes it plausible for me to write and formulate a plot, it is the emotional and poetic element that makes me more proud. 

* * *

Copyright © 2003, 2004 Brandon/Escee.com (the Author). All rights reserved.

This is a fan-service novel; many of the characters hereunto enclosed may be the trademarks of their creators, including but not limited to: Sega Corporation, DiC Entertainment, and Archie Publishing. The Author claims no relationship with, nor any endorsement from, these entities.

Original text, original characters, plot, and the Story itself and its text © the Author. All work hereunto contained, except characters included in the above statement, is the property of the Author.


	2. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**  
**a**** sense of history**  


  
            Many years ago, the power of Chaos threatened the most advanced civilization this world had yet seen.  The Island of their residence was held suspended in the sky, held by Chaos.  But the Island had not always been this way.  Once it had been earthbound, in the place of its creation.  But civilization had made great leaps and bounds; when a meteorite threatened to destroy the Island and all its people, drastic measures would be taken.  The emeralds containing the power of Chaos were mined, and these emeralds, with their infinite power, were used to lift the Island, to unchain its anchor, to break free of the laws of physics and create a Floating Island, that the meteorite might strike the ocean and spare the people of the Island.  The plan worked.  But many years passed, and there were many who wished the Island to be again returned to the sea.  When two bold scientists, brothers Edmund and Dimitri, proposed siphoning the power of the emeralds, draining them gradually, and thus slowly returning the Island to the waters below, this proposal was struck down.  Edmund accepted the magistrate's decision, but Dimitri refused, taking it upon himself to complete the task he and his brother had worked so hard to create.  
            But the power of Chaos could not be fathomed.  The siphon absorbed the emerald's power too quickly, and destructed.  In the moments that followed, Dimitri himself, not the destructed siphon, absorbed the power of the emeralds.  Only one of the emeralds remained.  Mad with power, Dimitri sought to exact his revenge on the council that denied his proposal, on the society that had not appreciated his genius.  He erected a behemothic tower to stand a sign of his infinite power, the power of Chaos with which he had been bestowed.  But his tower, unable to withstand his unfathomable power, crumbled.  Dimitri was buried beneath it.  
            The civilization decided that it was their incredible technology that had caused this disaster.  Vowing not to let their technology become their bane, they buried many relics of their advanced technology and sealed them away in the Grand Conservatory.  Edmund, brother of Dimitri, was appointed the first Guardian of the last remaining Chaos emerald; his duty was to protect the emerald, to prevent another disaster from arising out of its power, and to protect the people of the Floating Island.  
            Many generations passed.  Edmund passed down the role of Guardian to his eldest son, and with each new generation the title of Guardian was passed down.  
            In time, the civilization inexplicably vanished.  The presiding Guardian, the one they called Knuckles, had grown up in the great City, but when his father walked into the wall of flames and disappeared, Knuckles was forced to accept guardianship, perhaps too soon.  But the City was gone, and the Guardian didn't understand.  He turned to ask his father, who surely knew, but his father was not there.  He could not remember when he had last seen the City and his fellow people.  All he knew is that it had once been there and that it was not there now.  He found a few friends, but there were few left on the Island.  He felt empty, but knew that he was the Guardian and that the Chaos emerald which held the Island afloat was his responsibility; his duty was to guard it.  
            He had failed his duty.  
  
            The Floating Island had fallen into the sea and he had failed his duty.  The location of the Chaos emerald was unknown; it had been lost in an Entropic struggle between the rebel hero Sonic and the dictator of Mobius, Doctor Robotnik, who had seized the throne, betraying the King whom he had served in the Great War.  Robotnik had erected a tower that, with the power of Chaos, could eventually destroy the world, and certainly subordinate any rebellions against his empire, effectively winning him complete hegemony.  But in an unforeseen turn of events, he had left his satellite open, and his own satellite was turned against him.  The tower was a dead, broken shell.  But it still held the emerald.  Robotnik beat the crippled Sonic to the top of the tower, and in the ensuing struggle, Robotnik's hovercraft was marred by rubble, and the emerald was knocked into the malfunctioning hovercraft, which took off of its own accord.  The hovercraft took an erratic and unpredictable flight pattern, and had still not been found by either Robotnik, or the Guardian Knuckles, who had taken up the search.  Driven by forces he cannot fathom, Knuckles seeks the emerald to restore it to its rightful place and fulfill his duty.  But the power of Chaos is sought by evil as well.  
  



	3. One

**The sequel to Dawn of the War  
**   
            It had been long since they had taken up this task.  The Guardian had, of nowhere, arisen and proclaimed that the task of the Princess was his to undertake.  And yet, his proclamation was not of nowhere.  Perhaps his motivation could be said to be "divinely inspired," if all that is surreal is divine.  But it is not necessarily.  Divine, no – enigmatic, without doubt.  
            And perhaps had it not been for this enigma driving the Guardian, the world would have already been lost.  It had led him to the Grand Conservatory, where he had been able to find Relics which, along with the wisdom of Charles in the final hours, had arguably deferred the destruction of the chief opposition to the Robotnik tyranny, which would have left that tyranny unchecked – and it had possibly deferred the gradual destruction of the world as well, at the hand of Chaos as wielded by Robotnik with his great Tower, the Tower which had been incapacitated in a cataclysm of titans.  
            And now this enigma had led him here.  To realize his duty.  He was, after all, Guardian of the once-floating Angel Island, and of the Emerald of Chaos that had suspended it in the sky not so very long ago.  Was it not, then, as the enigma implored, his obligation to pursue its return to the dais, that the island might ascend again?  And also that the power of Chaos might not fall to Robotnik – to evil – and propagate Entropy?  
            And so it was this that had brought him, and his companions, here, in bleak search of the emerald.  Day was breaking again; the search was now routine, but no less tireless, draining, and dull.  Day in, day out.  
            They had not kept track of how long it had been since they began the undertaking of this seemingly-hopeless search, which had been intended, through Charles' planning, to have been made easier, and of a smaller radius, than it would be for Robotnik, but still seemed like the search for the needle in the haystack.  Perhaps, though, they were just unlucky.  To his companions, the Guardian did not seem to tire, though within he still carried the burden of resentment.  The tumultuous events of recent history had exacerbated this burden, but long had he bore an emptiness caused by the loss of his father and his home.  The latter still existed, yet did not.  The Island of his home still was, but its population was not.  And the lack of an explanation for their disappearance sucked at his soul.  But recently his burden had grown heavier.  When Angel Island – the Floating Island – had been invaded by armies of machines, this was the beginning.  When he had been guiled into relieving the dais of the emerald in order to save his friends whom Robotnik held captive, opening the Chaos chamber for the despot, his world had fallen apart; Robotnik had kept his promise to free his friends – the only "family" he knew on the now-desolate island – releasing them, with great laughter, off the edge of the falling Island, separating the Guardian from them – and he had set out in search of them, and also subsequently the Emerald, which – now reunited with his companions – he now sought with renewed strength.  
            And somewhere in the midst of it all, the enigma, the voice which spoke to him in his mind, had appeared to instruct him, yet leave him yearning for light in a darkness of ignorance.  And he had felt as a puppet, his will and volition at the whim of the tugs the enigma made on the string.  And still his actions were directed by this enigmatic voice.  Still he lacked the understanding of the big picture.  Still the Guardian was left perhaps more in the dark than in the light, satiated just enough to keep him in check.  
            And the way in which the Guardian was being watched was not new; it had been the way for many generations now.  But the current Guardian faced special circumstances in the disappearance of the people of Angel Island.  
            And while he carried these burdens, he still remained determined in his mission.  
            "Alright, it's time to get up," ordered the Guardian.  "We've got more ground to cover today."  
            The crocodile he was instructing rolled over wearily, and seemed to open his eyes and look up at his waker before rolling back onto his side, without a word.  Clearly he was not thrilled at the prospect of leaving his sleep right now.  Perhaps he was dreaming some especially pleasant dream, and by closing his eyes the dream was perpetuated, and the shattering of the dream and the memory of the dream so often caused by waking was deferred for a while as he tricked his mind into continuing the sleeping consciousness.  It didn't last long, though, as he was violently shaken – by what appeared to be nothing at all!  Shaken by an invisible force.  The crocodile's eyes shot open as he seemed to be experiencing an earthquake whose radius contained only him.  The Guardian smirked, knowing full well what was going on.  
            "W'zat?!"  The crocodile looked panickedly about, trying to, through the groggy cloud that hung over him in his just-now-awoken state of consciousness, identify the source of his violent rousing.  Finding none, he angrily gritted his teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at the Guardian.  "Are you behind this, Knux?!"  
            The Guardian smirked, and, turning his palms skyward with a slight shrug of his shoulders, simply stated, "I didn't do nothing."  
            A "humph" was heard, but it had no visible vessel; and then its vessel appeared.  A chameleon materialized, unshrouded of his cloak.  
            "Espio, you bastard," barked the crocodile.  
            Espio smirked wryly, but said nothing.  
            The crocodile, still in a state of stupor, not fully awake, simply stood, and also said nothing.  
            And there was a silence.  
            So the Guardian broke it.  "We should get going."  He crossed his arms.  "Let's get the others up."  
            "Should I do the honors?" leered Espio.  
            The Guardian's mouth turned up slightly on his left.  "Nah, I'll wake up Mighty. Feel free to startle Charmy if you'd like though."  
            The Guardian turned around and approached the sleeping armadillo on the ground.  "Alright, Mighty, let's go."  The Guardian nudged him slightly with his foot, and Mighty the armadillo was soon on his own feet.  
            A buzz flitted by the Guardian's left ear, and he knew that Charmy the bee was awake.  
            "Alright, guys, what's our game plan for today?"  
            Espio unrolled a map upon the soil.  The map had been printed for the Princess by Sir Charles, and when the Guardian and his companions had taken over the task of the Princess' appointed task force, they had handed the map over to him.  There was a circle printed on the map by machine, and this was the radius which Sir Charles had predicted the hovercraft containing the emerald should have fallen within.  Then there were hand-drawn lines, forming a grid pattern, and these were the sections which Espio, Charmy, and the Guardian had fabricated and delineated in order to make their planning easier.  Espio had marked off the gridboxes which they had already searched.  From outward appearances, it would seem they were not quite halfway done with all the map's areas.  Of course, they could X off every box on the map and still not find the emerald.  This would mean that either the emerald had landed within Charles' radius, and they had simply failed to find it; in this case, they would have to start the search all over – or, it could mean that Charles had miscalculated the erratic crash landing of the unmanned ship which contained the emerald, and that it had landed outside of this radius; in this case, they would probably find themselves almost as lost as Robotnik, who was searching for the Chaos emerald about false coordinates Charles had planted in order to lead Robotnik away from the Princess' – and now the Chaotix's – real search for the emerald, and they would have to continuously enlarge the radius until they found the emerald.  If they reached that point, things would probably seem more hopeless than they already seemed.  
            "As always, we're going to try to cover two sectors today," said Charmy in his childish voice that betrayed his true sophistication.  "But we'll stop at one if we need the rest."  
            "This one first."  Espio pointed.  "Then this one if we have the time and energy."  
            "Vector and Charmy, you take the first column," said the Guardian.  "Espio and Mighty, you take the second; I'll take the third. Make some noise if you find anything. Otherwise we'll all meet at the other end and decide if we want to try for another section."  
            The Guardian usually tried to alternate the groups so that he got a chance to work with different friends; he tried to create pairs so that if the emerald was present, and one person missed it, the other would hopefully notice it; but he would often also work alone, as he did today, because he knew that in reality he was not alone, and thus when he worked alone there were three pairs.  And now he took this opportunity to walk alone in order to converse.  
            "Okay?"  
            "Alright, Charmy, l'zgo," said Vector with a nod.  
            "Alright, we'll meet up later," said Espio with an okay of his hand.  
            They set out.  
            The Guardian began into his appointed third, scanning and pacing in search of the emerald.  And once he was alone, he also now listened.  He was listening for he who made him not alone.  But while he listened, he persisted in his vigilant search.  
            And then his listening was answered.  
            _"Koukennin."_  
            "Yes."  
            _"Your patience is waning."_  
            "No, my patience is not waning. My want to know is growing."  
            The Guardian carried out this conversation while still focusing his energy and concentration on searching out, as thoroughly as possible, every spot of his assigned area with the hope of finding the downed hovercraft that should contain the emerald, or if the emerald had been separated from it, then the emerald itself.  Finding the hovercraft, though, even if it did not still contain the emerald, would provide a great boost in morale and also a substantial clue to the location of the emerald; it should not have landed so far from the hovercraft, or at least this was what he hoped.  
            _"Have I not nourished you?"_  
            "You told me about echidna history, and about the Conservatory. You told me I must fulfill my duty. But you haven't told me why! There are so many questions I have asked you but you only answer what you can answer without cluing me in to something more. Tell me, then, if you wanna nourish me, who are you? I know you won't answer that question, so let me ask some more: tell me, why must I retrieve the emerald? It is my duty, but why is it my duty? Is the Island not perfectly fine as it is now, an island in the water? Or tell me why all the people of the Island are gone! Tell me what happened to everyone that lived on the Island. I knew and lived with them in my childhood, but one day they just weren't there anymore!"  
            _"I have answered your question. Chaos holds enormous power, and it must not fall to evil."_  
            "But you want the emerald to be put back on the Island. You want a Floating Island again. What does that have to do with evil?"  
            _"That is not important. The place of the jewel is upon the dais."_  
            "Then answer my other question: what happened to all the people of Angel Island?"  
            _"That question is inextricably linked to the first. It is why the __Island__ must ascend."_  
            "That's not an answer. How can you call this nourishment? All you do is whet my appetite!"  
            There was a pause.  The Guardian, still intent on his search, sought not to fill the silence, and simply left the emptiness hanging, replacing it with his visual search and his present assignment.  
            And so he continued, in his narrow zigzagging pattern, trying to cover as much ground within his allotted space as possible.  The conversation dropped off with that awkward, unanswered implorement.  And the Guardian, because he was preoccupied with his task, did not feel anger at this point.  But later he would have time to be bitter and resentful at being left so much in the dark, so unable to have his questions answered and his mind filled.

* * *

  


            It was in this dark place that the proposal was made to me.  
            "You have a choice," they told me.  "You can choose life, or you can choose death."  
            Who would choose death?  Those with the knife of the fate Atropos, wishing to cut all the strings attached to this polar proposition.  
            And wasn't I dead already?  She was gone; and I had told her with great love that I could not live without her.  And now I had been banished from Haven, into this place of darkness.  I could not even discern my addressee who offered me life.  
            "I have a choice?" I asked.  
            "You have garnered some sympathy from a few."  
            "All I want is to see her again."  
            "The girl? I'm sorry, but you can never return to the earth. The Brotherhood would destroy you; they hold the Eye of the City."  
            "Then I choose death."

* * *

  


            The Guardian met up with his companions rather uneventfully as they concluded their search of the sector.  
            "Well, guys, up for another one?"  
            "Sure, I guess," Mighty shrugged.  
            "Nah, lez give it a rest," Vector the crocodile dissented.  
            "And let the rest of the day go to waste? We made good time!" contested Espio.  
            "He's right," said Charmy.  "We did finish quicker than we usually do. We might as well take advantage."  
            "Whatever. I don' care," resigned Vector.  
            Now that he had had a chance to break from his intense concentration on the search, the Guardian's mind had wandered… and it had returned to his conversation with the enigmatic voice.  Now the Guardian recalled this conversation, and was filled with anger.  Before, it had been that the voice would simply tell him "I cannot tell you now," or "now is not the time," or "that is not important."  But this time it had flatly refused to answer.  He had implored to know what had happened to the people of Angel Island, and, upon insisting for a real answer, the voice had simply severed communication.  Cold silence is atrophic.  The voice hadn't even dignified him with a response.  It had spoken with cold silence.  And cold silence is atrophic.  
            So the Guardian was so buried in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear Espio calling his name.  "Knuckles! Knuckles?"  
            Espio tapped him on the shoulder, and he was started from his thoughts.  "Yeah?" he said nonchalantly.  
            "We're going to go for another sector. That alright with you?"  
            He shrugged.  It would probably take his mind off of the anger, but, he realized, it would also mean he was complying with the voice.  By continuing the search for the emerald, he would be complying with its wishes, and thus implicitly condoning its treatment of him.  But, he decided, he wasn't about to just give up the search now after having worked for so long on it; he wasn't about to waste all that time just yet.  The voice would speak to him again, and he could express his disapproval at that point.  For now, he would continue on.  Of course, he realized, he had long been expressing his disapproval.  And it hadn't won him any more information.  He put that aside, though, and turned to Espio.  "Yeah, alright, let's go."

* * *

  


            When they had concluded their search of the second sector for the day, they set up camp for the night.  They made small talk, and Espio X'd off two more boxes on the map's artificial grid.  Often they'd even sit in a circle and play a game of cards, be it poker, or pusoy, or bridge, as the sun set.  But there wasn't all that much they could do for entertainment while confined to one place in preparation for the adjacent search tomorrow.  It was just another day.  And they did tonight what they had done every other night since the beginning of this undertaking.  



	4. Two

**2**  


  
            The unveiling was tonight.  The work they had done was evident all around them, but today's grand opening of the banquet hall was a landmark point in the rebuilding process.  By no means was it the end; there was still much work to be done, but it was, because of its nature, a cause for celebration.  Today a great feast would be held to celebrate the rebuilding of the Knothole banquet hall.  
            Knothole I had served as a refuge for the band of Freedom Fighters led by Princess Sally Alicia Acorn, and soon thereafter had also become a home for many people who needed a safe haven from Robotnik.  But Robotnik had planted a tracking device on the Freedom Fighters' plane while it was grounded outside of Robotropolis, and had discovered the location of Knothole.  And that night he had razed it.  They had watched it burn, and they knew they could never build there again; Robotnik now knew where it was.  But Knothole was composed of two parts: one topside, and the other underground.  The underground portion was yet undiscovered by Robotnik, and with the aid of the Tarahassas Mountain Freedom Fighters, the underground portion had been augmented, and a tunnel had been made and lengthened, reaching to beneath a new location topside, and this would be the location of Knothole II.  
            The rebuilding of a new Knothole was the product of the graft of the collective population of Knothole.  Sally had led the rebuilding of Knothole, and most of Knothole's citizens had graciously lent their support in this task.  It was, after all, their home they were rebuilding, and they would readily pledge their hand and their toil in undoing the destruction Robotnik had wreaked upon their own home.  
            And today one of Sally's proudest projects was complete.  The banquet hall was built, and today it would see its first use in a celebration not only of its creation, but also of the road to a new Knothole.  
            Every citizen of Knothole was invited to be in attendance.

* * *

  


            Sally looked, her hands on her hips, with great contentment at what had been done.  She was truly satisfied with the work she and the people had done.  This building had been of her own design, and thus she was especially proud of it.  Of course it was nowhere near the elegance of the palace she had grown up in, but she had had to make do with what was available here.  When she lived in the royal palace they had royal architects and royal blacksmiths and her father would just hire someone to build the facility.  But she had made this herself; it was of her own design.  And she also felt proud of all the people who had – and still did – worked so hard on rebuilding this village.  This building was personal for her, though, as it was the only one she had personally designed.  
            She had been standing here alone for a while now.  And now she was ready.  She turned around and strode to the door, and opened it.  
            A crowd was gathered outside in anticipation of the event.  
            "I give you all," she proclaimed, "the Queen Alicia Banquet Hall!"

* * *

  


            Everyone filed into the large, capacious hall; it was, like almost every structure in Knothole, built entirely of unpainted wood, but its symmetry, and its carving and design here looked like someone had truly put their soul into it when compared with other facilities.  Light poured in through the windows high in the walls, and in the center of the room was a long table.  The hall's most important feature was its capacity; it was large; while Knothole was by no means a large village, those it did house were all able to be seated at once in the banquet hall.  Everyone filed in, taking their seats and looking around at the interior, rapt.  
            There was an amiable commotion; quiet conversation filled the chamber but no one thread was discernable above another.  
            Once the last person filed in, and closed the door behind them, Sally, a squirrel of the House of Acorn, approached the head of the table.  The last person took their seat, and Sally stood.  
            "Thank you," she said.  The murmurs of the crowd quieted.  "Thank you for coming here today."  
            Sally was a beautiful, slender girl with a beaming face.  She had been, when she was but a young girl, a princess, and she had had fine crowns and cloaks to wear.  But now she wore only a simple blue vest and simple blue boots, and yet her beauty still shone through.  So she was a striking girl, and her looks came naturally, not by any fine clothes or doctoring.  
            "We are gathered here today not to celebrate the first meal in this banquet hall, but to celebrate our collective work and the product of our labors as it is manifested in the rebirth of Knothole."  Some scattered applause began to emerge from the crowd as she said 'the product of our labors' and intensified as she completed her statement.  Still, though, the crowd here was modest and their reaction could not match the reaction her father would receive as he gave a speech to his citizens.  The numbers in the audience here simply could not match the numbers of an audience like that.  Their enthusiasm, though, was genuine.  After all, they were celebrating the rebuilding of their own home, not some arbitrary political achievement the King might have been addressing his subjects on.  
            "It has been a difficult struggle," she continued.  "But we have survived, and we have proven, through our hard work and our success in rising from the ashes of the flames, that we will not be defeated by anything Robotnik throws at us."  Again applause began to arise.  "Even the destruction of Knothole cannot stop us! Because we will rise up, and we will band together, and we will overcome!"  
            "And I would like to honor your strength during our times of tribulation, those unfortunate weeks spent underground or in conflict."  
            "We celebrate the success of our endeavors. Knothole started out as a refuge for me and a few others in the aftermath of the coup. But now it has become not only the base of the most powerful opposition to Robotnik's false reign, but also a refuge for so many more. I am proud to have accepted the first outsider to those who had been first ushered here by the royal guard, for it began the greatest accomplishment I have overseen. Here we have a haven where so many people can live a life sheltered from Robotnik and his machine. And this will continue as long as I live, or until Robotnik is overthrown."  
           "And I would like to thank you all for your efforts. I am grateful for all of your hard work. Thanks to your dedication, we have made such immense progress on the rebuilding in such a relatively short time. Without your help, we might still be building Sonic's hut." She laughed softly, and now took the opportunity to scan the crowd.  She found Sonic, the fastest being on Mobius, at the head of the table.  Seated alongside him were Bunnie, the rabbit half-machine, who had been rescued from the roboticizer by Sonic; Tails, the young two-tailed fox, and Sonic's little buddy; Antoine, the often-cowardly, sword-wielding French fox who was in love with the Princess; and opposite him Rotor, the walrus and the inventor; Horatio, the doctor; and Rand, who had returned here from Tarahassas for this feast.  She found the face of Laine, the wolf, as well, halfway down the table, and recognized the faces of many others she had seen fight in the recent battles, those whom Laine and Rohan had hurriedly trained on the fundamentals.  She found Rohan, the red fox's, face as well in the crowd.  And then, forgetting reality for just a moment, she sought her father's face in the crowd.  But before she could realize it was not there, reality was remembered, and she gazed forward again.  
            "That's all I have to say. Thank you, all. Let the feast begin!"  
            She stepped forward and took her seat at the head of the table, on Sonic's left.  
            And Horatio stood up and unveiled the feast on the center of the table, which had, until now, been covered over with a sheet.  
            And it was a great feast.  
            And dinner was served around.

* * *

  


            Robotnik heard the door open.  The room was dimly lit, not dark but certainly dreary.  The walls were all metallic.  Robotnik sat upon his mechanical throne, and before him were his many eyes, the many panels which adorned the front wall of the command room, which allowed him to see far and wide through his many cameras and surveillance systems.  
            The throne swiveled around now, so that Robotnik could face his nephew who stood in the doorway.  Robotnik was a large man; though he was fairly tall, especially when compared to the animals that opposed him, it was his great stomach that characterized him.  His belly filled the gut of his uniform.  Robotnik's other characterizing feature was his moustache, which was primarily brown but had a tint of orange to it.  His nephew was called Snively for the way he spoke.  Snively had but one hair upon his head and thus was essentially bald like his uncle.  Snively was much shorter than his uncle, and very thin; as such he was ultimately condemned to be in his uncle's shadow.  Snively's characterizing feature was his long, needle-like nose.  
            "Doctor Robotnik, sir," he spoke now with his nasal voice.  
            "Yes, Snively. What have you for me today? I hope you have an update for me on the status of the production of the line I designed."  
            "Yes, sir. Production is complete, completely, sir. They are ready for your final inspections."  
            "Excellent. I will conduct my final inspections and then they shall march east. And what of the search for the emerald?"  
            "Still underway, sir. I regret that I have no progress to report."  
            "You'd best work harder, then, Snively! My patience is growing thin. You should have already found it!"  
            "I apologize, sire," Snively said with a trace of fear.  "I have been focusing my efforts on the realization of your design. I'll be sure to redouble my efforts in the search now, sir."  
            "Very well. I suppose," Robotnik stroked his chin.  "I suppose I should like to see the finished product now."  He rose from his throne.  
            "As you wish, sir."  Snively turned around and exited through the door, and Robotnik followed him.

* * *

  


            But they would not give me death.  
            So I asked them to let me return to the earth, and if the Brotherhood would kill me, then so be it.  I told them I wanted only to see her again, and if I could not, then let me die.  
            But they refused, saying they had decided to protect me.  
            "To protect me from what?!" I asked.  "If I can never see her again, then this coldness is a lot like death prolonged."  
            "We have made our decision. We need someone outside of Haven. A check on its power. And you..."  
            I interrupted.  "Then find someone else. You said I had garnered sympathy. Please, then, if you feel sympathy for me, please grant me my request."  
            "It cannot be one of us. That would alert the Brotherhood to our precautionary check on their power. And then it would fail. Are we to, then, take the life of some innocent person and snatch them off the ground for our purposes? No, you have already arrived here. You are already to be punished. We should not create another casualty."  
            "If I am to be punished, how can you call it sympathy to give me the punishment that is most severe? I choose death, and if you feel any sympathy you will grant this to me."  
            "We are sorry," was all they said.  
            It was then that I realized that I had garnered no sympathy from any members of the Brotherhood.  Or, if I had gained any, it was secondary to the role I had in their politics and their plans.  Perhaps they were wary of the power the Brotherhood had; perhaps some of them had decided together that they should institute something as a precaution, that if conflict broke out they would have something.  But what would that something be?  A refuge?  An ally?  I did not know what they had in store for me.  All I knew was that if they expected an ally in me, they had miscalculated.

* * *

  


            After the feast was over, the celebration had continued with dancing and music.  
            Sonic even swallowed his pride and took Sally's offered hand for a dance.  
            "Come on," she had said.  "Don't be such a wallflower," she said smiling, her hand outstretched.  
            "Alright," he had sighed.  "But just once."  And he had taken her hand.  
            And while they danced, she had leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Thank you," and nothing more.  
  
            It was a great night.  And a rejuvenator.  It had been long since there had been so much joy in Knothole.  Its people had spent uncomfortable weeks underground in the dark after Knothole burned, as the tunnel project was begun, and then as the project was put on hold in order to neutralize the impending threat of Robotnik's great Tower, and then finally once it was complete, they had undertaken much hard work in rebuilding.  So it had been long since they had relaxed, much less enjoyed themselves.  And so today was a renewal, and they knew full well that the next day they would again resume the work of rebuilding, but would make no complaints, for the least they could do in exchange for all the Princess had given them was aid in the rebuilding of their own home, which the Princess had provided.  
            They loved the night, and the next day, spirits renewed, they continued the work they had paused.  



	5. Three

**3**  


  
            Knuckles the echidna, Guardian of Angel Island, opened his eyes again.  
            He quickly rose to his feet and, as usual, roused the others.  
  
            In time, the map was again unrolled upon the earth, and Espio and Charmy again demarcated the group's goals for today.  
            And again Knuckles assigned three groups to three vertical segments of the first box on the map for today.  Charmy and Espio took one, Vector and Mighty the next, and today Knuckles decided again to take the third alone.  
            They all set off toward their assigned areas, and Knuckles again began his intensive search.  
            And again he listened.  
            It came as he stepped over the thick root of a tree here.  
            _"Kouken-san."_  
            "You."  
            _"You are troubled."_  
            "If I am troubled, then it is your doing."  
            _"Tell me."_  
            "I asked you a question, and your answer was to stop talking to me."  
            _"You, too, said nothing."_  
            "I was imploring an answer, and in response you cut off your voice."  
            _"I will not deny my reservations over your questions."_  
            "And now you're so sick and annoyed of them that you'll just give up talking to me when I ask too many?"  
            _"Ask me."_  
            "What?"  
            _"I said, ask me."_  
            "Alright. What happened to the people of Angel Island?"  
            _"You do not know how hesitant I am to answer this question, but I will."_  
            "Really, then? Do."  
            _"They still exist."_

* * *

  


            Vector was not as dedicated to the search as Knuckles was.  It was not that he was undisciplined or that he was unruly; no, he did not consciously _try_ to devote less attention to the task.  Rather, he did not know that more was possible.  And he never did possess the ability of Knuckles to focus so intensely on a task.  So while he may not have the temperament of the Guardian, he still gave the task his full effort; perhaps it was also the concept of _full_ that differed between them.  
            "Anything, Vec?"  
            "Nah, nuttin'."  
            "'Kay."  Mighty, too, lacked Knuckles' temperament, but was still more disciplined than Vector.  
            Vector moved forward to search the next part of his area.  And as he began to scan, he heard a shout, in Espio's voice, off to the right.  "Hey, I found something!"

* * *

  


            _"So you told him."_  
_            "Yes."_  
_            "I think you did well."_  
_            "Do you?"_  
_            "At least now he has something more real to be fighting for."_  
_            "But does he know he is fighting for it?"_  
_            "What do you mean?"_  
_            "So he knows they still exist now. Does he know, however, how that his search for the jewel is entwined with the restoration of the City?"_  
_            "No, perhaps not. But he may figure that out on his own."_  
_            "It is possible. But, yet, how could he fathom? How could he imagine the state of the existence of the City? How could he imagine its locus, the necessity of the __Island__ to rise in order for it to land?"_  
_            "You say these things to me. Why not to him?"_  
_            "Oh, no. I must at least observe how he handles what he **has** been told. I must observe, that I might predict how he might digest so much more. And yet even so, I still think it not the time for the Truth. Have we ever worked in such a way? The Truth was not revealed to me until it was time almost for me to walk into the flames."_  
_            "You still lived in the City then. Even without knowing the Truth, you still had something to believe in lieu. You had the City to fight for. You had tangible, visible people to protect. He has nothing tangible, nothing visible. I almost think it would be beneficial to give him Truth, that, as you had told me before, he might have more drive to internalize his duty."_  
_            "You look at it from one side only. True, it could catalyze his sense of duty. But that is not the only power of the Truth. It also usurps the reality he knows. This can be very destructive, and the resulting confusion, even anger and resentment for the Wool, could overtake whatever sense of duty he now has. And I think if even the nature of the City's existence were revealed, it would necessitate the revealing of the entire Truth. And I do not think he is ready for such a usurping. He might even consider it betrayal."_

* * *

  


            Soon the Guardian and all members of the Chaotix had arrived at Espio's side.  
            And they saw what he had found.  
            It was the hovercraft.  
            It was the hovercraft Robotnik had docked in the Tower after the battle of Titans, the hovercraft which had been pinned to the Tower's catwalk in the aftermath of Sonic's unexpected planning, the hovercraft into which the emerald had fallen in the struggle between Robotnik and the two-tailed fox, the hovercraft which had malfunctioned and taken off of its own accord after the Tower had been shaken violently by the half-roboticized rabbit's pulse cannon, the hovercraft whose coordinates Sir Charles had spoofed in an effort to lead Robotnik away from it.  It was the hovercraft they had been searching for.  And it was also the hovercraft Robotnik had been searching for.  
            The Guardian wasted no time upon realizing what he was standing before.  He quickly climbed into the hovercraft and scoured it for the emerald.  Emerging, they all asked him with their eyes, and, swinging back out onto the earth, opened his hands, exposing his empty palms.  
            "It shouldn't have landed too far away from here," said Espio.  "Let's comb the area and see what turns up."  
            "Alright," nodded Knuckles.  "Let's go."  
            And they set out in their groups again, as three radiuses moving from the center, being the hovercraft.  
  
            And Knuckles walked tirelessly, scouring meticulously for some sign of the emerald.  
            And as he stared at the endless soil, it was a lot like rain, and a lot like mind.  And staring at the endless soil, searching for the gem of Chaos, was like scouring his mind, scouring his reality, for answers.  Because everywhere he looked there were none.  And he could even have a voice in his mind, that seemed to contain everything he sought, and still be unable to find it.  
            And then he saw it.  In the soil, half-buried, some green thing.  
            But he did not approach it, because it was lost as he now recalled what he had been told.  _They still exist._  And he felt as if he knew some great secret but yet was unable to understand.  And so he felt half-enlightened, but too stupid to comprehend his enlightenment.  But, he realized, the voice was full of answers that were not answers.  And by telling him _they still exist_, how much was it really revealing?  So, yes, Knuckles was relieved that they still existed.  But where?  And how could he reach them?  _Could_ he ever reach them again?  
            He forgot this, and remembered the other.  Some green thing half-buried in the soil.  
            And he stepped forward, and forward, and forward, until it was at his feet.  And he squatted down with a bend of the knees, cupped his hands, and took it in them.  And he uncovered it from the soil and took it in his hands.  And then he knew.  
            He held the emerald of Chaos in his hands.  
          And then he said nothing, but asked himself, _I have completed my mission, but what have I really accomplished?_  
            And to that, he had no answer.  
            But yet he almost felt, almost as if in a great shawl or cloak of deception, that the emerald _was_ the answer.  
            But it was just an emerald.

* * *

  


            They ascended me to this place, which I call Claustrum, my prison.  
            And here, with no more existence in the World, I have nothing to do but observe through the many terminals, the many eyes on the walls.  
            I am the Arbiter.  
            Time passes so slowly, so I have nothing to do but observe and to write.  
            And every second I exist is a second too long.  
            I yearn so much to die and be reunited with love.  They killed her, and I am imprisoned here, unable to move, unable to exact vindicated vengeance, the reciprocation they deserve in verity.  This is the most torturous existence.  I am alone here and must live with the knowledge that I was not there to protect her from death.  They murdered her while I sat confined in Claustrum, and I watched her die through an eye on the wall.  
            I resent my savior for letting her die.  
            I resent my savior for denying me death.

* * *

  


            Upon reuniting with Knuckles and seeing the emerald in his hand, the Chaotix celebrated briefly and weakly.  And then they made preparations for their next move.  
            "Well, that's mission accomplished, right?" said Espio.  
            "Well," said Knuckles, "we still have to return it to Angel Island."  
            "Why don't we wait until tomorrow?"  
            "We shouldn't stay here, especially with the hovercraft still unhidden," said Charmy.  
            "And I just want to close this chapter," said Knuckles.  "I want to go _now_."  
            "Alright," said Espio.  "That's fine with me."  
            And so it was, and so they set off, back toward Angel Island.

* * *

  


            "I'm glad that's over," said Vector, as they marched the long walk to Angel Island.  "Now maybe life can get back to normal."  
            "Yeah," said Knuckles, but then he remembered once more, and wanted to take back that statement.  For now that he knew _they still exist_, he knew life now would not get back to normal.  The Island as empty as it was was not normal.  
            But, he conceded, though he yearned for the answer, still, the completion of this mission would mean he could at least _relax_, and enjoy life with his friends back on the Island again, and _that_ was something to be happy about, at least.  
            "I can't wait to get back. Let's have a feast!" said Mighty.  "A great big feast! I haven't had a good meal since the robots invaded us."  
            "Now tha's a good idea," said Vector.  
            "I could go for that," said Knuckles.  
            "An' then when I'm done eatin' I can sleep all day," said Vector.  
            "Or can you?" Espio smirked.  
            "You ruin it, you die."  
            And then, off in the distance, but not so far, another voice was heard, and in succession, many more in cacophony.  And immediately Knuckles turned to see what it was.  And once he saw what he saw, he immediately turned back to his friends and shouted "Run!"  
            And what he saw were many bodies in a line, coming their way.  Marching as an army.  But when Knuckles began to run, they had noticed his movement.  And together, they all sounded off: "Investigate potential threat, all."  
            "Subject found in database. Subject matched; orders are to apprehend. State five."  
            And they were machines, but they were not the same ones Knuckles recognized from the Island invasion.  All the robots that had invaded the Island all looked the same.  But these were different.  Knuckles did not waste time studying them, though.  He ran.  
            But the machines were fast enough to keep up with him, and they far outnumbered Knuckles and his companions.  
            "Cease movement, or prepare for fire."  
            And Knuckles and his friends ran.  
            And soon they found themselves amidst open fire.  
            _"Protect the emerald, Kouken-san."_  
            "Tell me how!" Knuckles yelled aloud.  "Tell me how!"  
            There was no answer.  So Knuckles shouted again, to nobody, "Tell me how to do your bidding! I cannot save it without your help!"  
            But the voice had no answer.  And Knuckles knew then that it was hopeless; the voice had no answer, no advice to give him.  So therefore there must be no way out of this.  So Knuckles stopped running, and, to the army, shouted "Cease fire!"  
            And they did.  Knuckles' friends turned around at hearing his voice behind them, and saw what he was doing.  But didn't understand.  "Knuckles, what are you doing?!" shouted Espio.  
            "We can't escape," said Knuckles.  "There is no escape. Why run and just be shot down? Why run just to be shot in the back and die?"  
            Vector and Mighty and Espio had also halted, though a fair distance behind Knuckles, and thus the enemy did not resume fire upon them.  
            _"Kouken-san, what foolishness is this?"_  
            "You know there is no escape. If there was, you would have told me. Either that or you are an idiot and wouldn't tell me in order to save me. But I think you are smarter than that."  
            _"So you will just give up?!"_  
            "You would have me run? If I cannot outrun them, inevitably they will eventually hit me. What stupidity is that? If there is an escape, tell me now before it is too late."  
            _"I…"_ for the first time, at least that Knuckles could recall, the voice hesitated, stuttered, didn't have the words ready.  _"I do not have an answer or a panacea, but I can tell you that this is not it."_  
            "Then this _is_ it."  
            But Knuckles did not have time to continue his conversation.  The army had closed the distance to him.  And now, from behind them, another figure emerged to meet the Guardian.  
            "You."  
            Indeed it was a figure Knuckles recognized.  It was a beast with a great mane, and it was the general who had taken Knuckles from Angel Island to meet with Robotnik, in order to save his friends.  And it was at that meeting that Robotnik had demanded the emerald.  And it was that Knuckles had conceded, in order to – or so he hoped – save his friends, and given up the emerald.  The emerald which he now held in his left palm, but concealed from the view of the beast that now addressed him.  
            "Yes, _I_. We meet again, echidna."  
            Knuckles now had a chance to inspect the robots of which the army was composed.  They were not like the lean, silvery-metal robots which he had so much experience with; these were heavier robots, and it seemed they could move faster.  They were not metallic in color, but were more of a dulled bronze hue.  
            "Tell me, echidna, do you stand against this army? The army of the world's Lord? I believe you do."  
            "I don't give a damn about this world. I have no qualms with the Lord of a world I am not a part of."  
            "Cleverly chosen words, but I have a different agenda this time. You have proven to be a strong soldier when fighting alongside those vile Freedom Fighters. As such, my orders are to either enlist you, or to destroy you. Choose sides wisely, echidna. Believe me, you do not want the wrath of this army."  The beast shifted his gaze to focus behind Knuckles, and he saw Knuckles' friends.  "Ah, I see your friends are with you. Then this becomes even easier. I already know you cannot resist protecting them. All I had to do last time was hold a gun to one and you were putty. Now I have _so many more _guns."  The beast raised his right arm to gesture at the great line of machines, which all wielded firearms.  
            But at that moment one of the machines was thrown to the ground, by no visible force.  And Knuckles tensed up, knowing of course what was happening, but fearing it was either unwise, or ill-timed.  
            The robots adjacent to the fallen one raised their firearms.  "Target is hostile!" One of these seemed to convulse as it was thrown off its feet by no visible man.  Immediately the other fired at where the robot next to it just moments ago stood.  Of course, this entailed aiming its weapon, to the visible eye, at another one of its own.  And it did not hit the invisible assailant; it did indeed hit another one of its own.  And as this robot was downed, several robots in its vicinity all raised their weapons.  
            "Cease fire; return to ready position!" shouted the beast.  "You who performs these attacks, cease at once or I will open fire on the echidna and those standing behind him."  The machines returned to ready position, lowered their firearms, and the attacks of the wind too ceased.  
            "If this is your doing," the beast turned to face the Guardian again, teeth gritted, "then you are truly asking for your own death and the deaths of your friends."  
            "This is not my doing."  
            "Lie all you want; it will not avert the decision you must make."  
            _"If you truly plan to be taken captive, first lose the jewel!"_  
            "Where?" Knuckles asked.  
            "Right here, echidna," the beast answered as if Knuckles was addressing him.  
            The beast's answer was the only answer to that question Knuckles received.  
            "I do not wish to be part of this war; just leave me, and I will not interfere with your Lord's activities."  
            "You already have."  
            "From this point forward."  
            "I'm sorry, but that is not an option. My orders are to enlist you or destroy you. And if you refuse to be enlisted, I will also destroy your friends. All's fair in war."  
            And then Knuckles slipped.  "Then I surrender," he said, and as he did, he raised his arms to the sky.  And also, inadvertently, turned his palms forward.  
            "What's that?!"  The beast reached out and grabbed Knuckles by the left wrist.  
            Knuckles, now realizing his mistake, punched the beast in the face with his right hand.  This released the beast's grip, and immediately Knuckles threw the emerald in his left hand over his shoulder; it landed at Vector's feet.  Knuckles at once regretted doing this, but it had been a spontaneous decision of the mind, without any thought; he had had no time to think, and what he had done had been done.  
            Knuckles expected the beast to return his attack, but instead it simply laughed.  "Hahaha, you have served me well," it said.  "It will please Lord Robotnik greatly to have the Chaos emerald returned to him!"  The beast brushed past Knuckles and approached Vector, who now had the emerald in his hands.  "The secret's out!" it said.  "There's no way you can keep the emerald from me while I command this army, and you have only three."  The beast reached and grabbed Vector by the wrist, prying the emerald from his hand, and then turned around and returned to the front of the army, facing the Guardian again.  "Very well, echidna, you shall have your wish. You may go. I have no need to bring you to Lord Robotnik when I can bring the Chaos emerald instead."  The beast paused, and then continued, "Of course, if this is granted, your word shall be upheld. You either will not be part of this war, and not interfere with Lord Robotnik, or you will interfere and in turn will by default introduce yourself into this war. I suspect the latter, but I suppose I owe you the benefit of the doubt."

* * *

  


            _"I am rather unimpressed. In fact, I would go so far to say that my patience is wearing thin."_  
_            "Silence. Though I indeed wanted desperately for him to succeed, his statements were of verity. I do not know what could have been done. He asked me for help and I could give him none because there was nothing he could do."_  
_            "He may have been correct in asserting that there was no escape, but it was his stupidity that brought about failure. He had the jewel hidden from sight, and like a fool he exposed it! Had he any brains, he could have kept it concealed, complied, and then escaped from captivity when not in the presence of an army. But now the jewel is in the hands of the enemy, and he simply walks away!"_  
_            "You expect him to fight off the entire army to get it back?"_  
_            "No, that's not what I meant. I…"_  
_            "You attacked him for simply walking away; it is indeed what you meant."_  
_            "Do not throw me into some meaningless, endless argument."_  
_            "He was given the chance to walk away, and we should be thankful for that. It would be a much thornier trial to use him in the retrieval of the jewel if he were in prison or captivity or slavery."_  
_            "Entropy reigns, and this is his fault."_  
_            "Entropy has long reigned!"_  
_            "And he perpetuates it."_  
_            "Your saying so helps nothing."_  
_            "And your words do?"_  
_            "We must focus not on the errors of Koukennin; they are to be expected given his age, after all; we must instead focus on what now must be done. The City can wait, and you lack in patience."_  



	6. Four

**4**  


  
            It had almost been grimly funny.  Since the Fall of the Island, this had been the second – perhaps the third time the emerald had been recovered, only to be taken back again.  
            But what had interested her most was the new army he had described.  It had reminded her that during the Calm, Robotnik had not necessarily sat around idly, twiddling his thumbs.  He, like she, had been building.  And it was important to see what information she could gather from Uncle Chuck, their insider from within Robotropolis.  
            So Sonic was dispatched to meet with his uncle.  He picked up his feet, and was off at a blindingly fast speed.

* * *

  


            Sonic arrived at the dump.  Looking around, he ensured that the coast was clear, and then keyed in the code on the rusty panel mounted on the heap of trash.  And then the junk shifted and a door composed of it opened upwards.  Sonic stepped inside the hideaway in the trash.  
            "Hey, Unc."  
            Sonic's uncle turned around.  He was a machine.  This was Robotnik's greatest power, to turn organic beings into machines.  But the roboticizer also stole free will; the machines it produces all comply to Robotnik's will.  And yet Uncle Chuck was free of Robotnik's command – this had been a mistake.  Uncle Chuck had been the first to be roboticized after the coup, and he _had_ lost his free will.  But it had been inadvertently, and unknowingly to Robotnik, restored in an amiss experiment.  Thus, lacking his own body, but holding his volition, and his mind, he served as an insider for his nephew's cause.  
            Shortly before the Battle of Titans that preceded the Calm, Sonic had broken his left leg in battle.  It had been his own friend, Caero, who had crippled him.  And not by his own volition; no, he had been roboticized, and his will had been enslaved.  So Caero had, from within the prison that was his transmuted body, witnessed his own attack on Sonic, screaming out and trying to will his body to resist and stop, but being mute, and being unable; his volition had no power; his strength, no vessel.  And he had been forced to exist and witness all that he wrought in the name of Robotnik, without any control or dominion.  And Caero had been Sonic's friend; he had once saved his life, and more than once fought alongside him.  And he had turned twice; once to Robotnik, and then against Robotnik, and his punishment for the latter was worse than death.  It was not life imprisonment, but eternal imprisonment, for machines did not die of old age, and thus it was a possibility that his enslavement could be forever; and it would, unless he was destroyed.  And having to witness his own loathsome existence from the jailing shell of his own metallic skin was worse than death, and he had longed for death.  But he had no power, no strength he could put to use in ending his own life.  And he was a paraplegic, a soul, existence, will, with no occupation but thought, and that thought was usually tormentuous.  
            Sonic's leg had healed now; Caero, on the other hand, had not.  
            "Good to see you, Sonny," said Chuck, his voice still human, yet synthetic.  "What can I do for you?"  
            "Sal sent me to find out about 'Buttnik's new army. The echidna found the emerald, but some new army found him."  
            "New army? I hadn't noticed anything about anything like that. Usually Robotnik has files in his network on something well in advance to its deployment."  
            Chuck turned to his terminal and tapped at the console.  
            "This beast general, labeled only as _K_, has posted a 'mission closed' for the objective of the return of the emerald to Robotnik. And his army…" Chuck paused, tapping at the keys.  "Now this is very odd. They look like a new make, but there's no prior information on them. Normally I'd know about a newly-commissioned army or revision or design in advance, even before they hit production."  Chuck pulled up an image on the screen, and Sonic stepped closer to look at the new robots.  
            "Those ain't SWATbots."  
            "No. They must have been in the works for a while. That's why I'm so confused as to why there's been no record of their development. Normally I'd have information like this for you well before it can come to fruition, so you have a chance to sabotage it."

* * *

  


            "Do you know what this is, Snively?"  
            Snively looked at the thing his uncle held in his hand.  "The… the Chaos emerald, sir."  
            "Hm. I wonder how it happened to be returned. It certainly wasn't _your_ doing, was it Snively?"  
            "N-n-no, sir. It was not my doing."  
            Robotnik raised his voice.  "Then tell me what you were _doing_ all this time!"  Robotnik's voice came forcefully, and Snively cowered back in fear.  "You mean to tell me you have been hard at work in finding _this emerald_, yet my general stumbles upon it without even _looking_? You mean to tell me your time was _well spent_?!"  
            "N-n-n-no, sir."  
            "Then you mean to tell me your time was _wasted?!_" Robotnik boomed; Snively took a step back from his uncle; he was a nervous wreck.  
            "I-I-I…"  
            "I hope that you have at least completed the artifice, the exploiter, the new power-harvester."  
            "I-I-I…" Snively then proceeded to rush out his words quickly, as if he believed that by rushing his words he would be able to get them all out before incurring his uncle's wrath.  "I have not sir for I have been at work and working on the search and on the production of your design and all of these things sir and so I did not have the time to do this sir and I did not—"  
            "Silence, fool! Failure! You have wasted my time and my efforts. Get out of my face, and get to work on the exploiter, _now_."

* * *

  


            "Chuck says there was no record of the army, or the new robot design, until today. Usually there is, so he can tell us in advance."  
            "Seems almost like he was hiding it from _us_. Does it mean he knows about Chuck?"  
            "It might mean he knows we've been gaining intel through his network. I doubt he's made the jump from that to Chuck. I'm sure he'd have realigned him if he knew."  
            "It is troubling, though, that Robotnik has done this; it could be a permanent change."  
            "Chuck doesn't think so. After all, the mission complete was posted to the network, and even if Robotnik is aware that we have been gaining access, it's to his benefit to post information to his networks, as it keeps the SWATbots in the know much faster than if he didn't. Chuck thinks this was deliberate, but isolated."  
            "Did he suggest a course of action?"  
            "Not yet. He says it's up to us if we want to take the offensive or not. He says he'll be sure to let us know if he gets wind of any dangerous army movement, though."

* * *

  


            "Let's not have them stand idly by. Have them march south, and set up camp there. Then seek out and destroy any opposition you find in the area."  
            "As you command, my liege."

* * *

  


            It was a pastime of mine to explore new places.  I had always been a nomad, an explorer, an adventurer.  Today she accompanied me as we explored an arid stretch of desert.  
            She had packed a picnic, and I had strapped a canister of water to the sheath of my sword.  I drew the canister to take a sip, and realized it was all but empty.  Gazing ahead, I saw a pool of water a ways off in the distance.  
            Turning to her, I said, "Why don't you get the picnic set up here? I'm going to go on ahead to that small oasis," I pointed, "and get some more water."  
            I kissed her on the cheek and smiled.  
            "Don't make me wait too long," she said with a smile.  
            I turned around, and called back, "I won't!"  
            And I set off.  
            And it was a long walk, but I knew I was at least giving her ample time to prepare our picnic for when I returned.  
            I was halfway to the oasis now, and as it drew closer I took step after step.  
            And one brought the flaming night.  
            With one fatal step, the world faded away and my vision was aflame.  I heard her cry out in the distance, so far away now, and I had tried to turn and run back to her, but there had been nothing to turn to.  I had not even been able to see her; she was no longer visible.  
            And then everything faded away, and everything else faded in.  
            I found myself on a cold steel floor, and at that moment I figured I must have blacked out and that now I was dreaming.  I had, after all, but moments before, been walking on sand; it was impossible that this steel floor was anything but a dream.  It was not possible for me to be traversing the desert one moment and the next be within some steel hall.  It could be nothing but a dream.  
            An echidna appeared and gaped at me with wide eyes.  "What the hell?!" he exclaimed.  
            He hurriedly approached me and then grabbed me by the throat.  "Who the hell are you? Bastard, how dare you infiltrate Haven?!"  
            I reached for my sword but could not draw it.  "Tell me...where I am..." I spat.  
            "You, of inferior blood. How did you find this place? Tell me or I will slay you."  
            "I...don't...know how. I was in the desert one moment, and the next..."  
            But I was interrupted.  
            "Fool, by coming to Haven you have sacrificed your life!" he shouted at me.  "Unwittingly or not, you have stumbled upon things you cannot know!"

* * *

  


            "This doesn't look good," Uncle Chuck said to himself, as he scoured Robotnik's network.  "Robotnik isn't usually this aggressive. This could be a bad sign."  Chuck remembered that the last time Robotnik had actively dispatched an army to set up a semi-autonomous base camp was when he had invaded Angel Island.  Was he now, then, invading the world?  Was he going to send his army to the corners of the world, eradicating all resistance?  It didn't seem to him like something the Freedom Fighters couldn't handle.  It was just one army, after all.  Though they may be stronger than SWATbots, there were not enough of them that they could not be stopped by a combined force of Knothole, Tarahassas, and Ilus.  But, still, this was something he was not used to.  True, Robotnik had tried before dispatching armies of SWATbots, but generally they were not serious threats.  They would wander aimlessly until some rogue group destroyed them.  Somehow, this seemed more serious.  They were ordered to set up camp.  This was not something Robotnik generally did; Angel Island had been one instance.  It seemed to suggest that the army was to maintain a more enduring stay, that their mission was more complete, more thorough.  He would have to alert Sonic at once, and advise that Knothole confront this army, and enlist the aid of Tarahassas and Ilus, calling upon the pacts signed at the beginning of the Calm.  
            The Calm was over.  



	7. Five

**5**  


  
            It seemed all but hopeless.  
            "What would you have me do?" the Guardian asked, as he sat upon the soil, his legs folded beneath him.  
            _"You know what I would have you do."_  
            "I tire of it."  
            _"It is what you were born to do."_  
            "Why must it be restored? Why must the Island ascend? This is what the echidnas all wanted. This is what Edmund and Dimitri had proposed. And they had been shot down because the council feared the consequences. But the Island has fallen and I see no consequences."  
            _"It is catastrophic."_  
            "Then you see something that I don't."  
            _"Indeed, Kouken-san."_  
            "Then speak! I said I don't want to fall into this war between Robotnik and his subjugates. And the beast promised that I could stay out of the war, if I do not make myself an enemy. Why should I throw that away, simply because _you_ say so?"  
            _"It is not only my wish; it is yours also."_  
            "That's a lie. Don't speak for me."  
            _"I can speak for you because I know what it is you want."_  
            "What I want is not the emerald."  
            _"But you do seek answers, and normality."_  
            "What? Are you blackmailing me? You'll give me answers but only if I do as you say?"  
            _"No, I say that you shall find answers, and that normality will be borne from the ascendancy of the __Island__."_  
            "I don't believe you. I think it will be born from your lips once you have what you want, and what you want is the emerald on the Island. So you'll use me to get it."  
            _"I will not deny that I wish for the dais to hold the jewel in its claws. But I speak in verity when I say that I want it for you."_  
            "You want it _for me_? So it is not what I want at all, but what you want on my behalf?"  
            _"You yourself have said you want it."_  
            "I have said no such thing."  
            _"You have. You simply yet have not pieced it all together."_  
            "Pieced what together?"  
            _"The people of __Angel__Island__ cannot be restored until the __Island__ is restored to its former locus."_  
            "Restored? What do you mean? You mean you are holding them hostage, and only once I return the emerald will you set them free?!"  
            _"Entropy holds them hostage, __not__I.__ It was Entropy that banished them, and Entropy that caused the Fall of the __Island__ which prevents their return."_  
            "Entropy? Who is Entropy?"  
            _"Entropy is entropy. It is no thing, but everything which contains entropy."_  
            "So you hold the key, but will not use it until I restore the emerald?"  
            _"No, I cannot use it. That is how Entropy reigns. Entropy is no thing; it is circumstance. And it is perpetuated by evil. Evil seeks the reign of Entropy, and will seek to aid it in its reign. To free them now would be to sentence them all to death. Only when the __Island__ is at its previous locus can it keep them from colliding with it in death."_  
            "You speak this way on purpose, don't you? So that I can never truly understand what you are saying."  
            _"I will not deny a bit of purpose in my words. A bit of Telos. But I think you can see now why the jewel must be restored… why you want its restoration."_  
            "No, I cannot see. But that is your purpose: to blind me. Yet I can _feel_ now."  
            _"You can feel the need to restore the jewel, yes."_  
            "Yes."  
            _"When the jewel rests again upon the dais, all your questions will be answered."_  
            "Then what would you have me do?"  
            _"You know what I would have you do."_  
            "Guide me."  
            _"Travel to Julian's capital city. Learn what you can about what he plans to do with the jewel, and where it is being held."_  
            "I shall," he asserted, and then rose to his feet.  
            Turning around, he found his friends a ways back, talking amongst themselves.  "All right," he shouted out to them.  "We've got a new assignment."  
            It would be a long walk to Robotnik's city.

* * *

  


            I remember life before Death.  I remember it all: the City, the adventures, the carefree life, the embraces, my home, the blue sky, the green grass, the appearances of the Guardian Locke, the great meals, the stories, the smiles.  But all of it was flushed away so thoroughly.  And by no fault of mine, but I hold no apprehension, for the World is not fair; I hold no false credences as to the immunity of the innocent.  It may have been by mistake, but that fatal step I took must be punished.  Yet now I undermine this.  For how can I say I do not believe in the immunity of the innocent, when I die nightly, knowing she died and committed no sin.  Even when I tell myself that she has been rewarded with ascendancy, even when I know her death was her uplifter, I still know -- truly, I know, feel, and burn with the verity of it -- that her death was unjust, and her murderers will descend into the abyss, weighed down by their gross sin.  
            And I sit here unable to die and ascend to meet her with open arms.  And I die but cannot be freed of this miserable body and this miserable place.  And my sword Veritas howls out, yearning so deeply for the blood of the murderers -- both mine and hers.  And I know it is all in vain, all my wishing, all my longing for vengeance, my hatred, my knowledge of sin, my understanding of truth, my hypocrisy; it is all in vain.  For trapped in Claustrum it has no power, no meaning, no saturation, no reality; it is not exacted.  So I fill my mind with everything I see, as I look out through these mechanical eyes into the World and see the blue sky that was torn from me.  And I try to fill my head up, not like a sieve but like a sponge, and it all means nothing.  And it all means nothing, for I look at it as nothing, simply trying to observe everything at once, and that is no way to gain insight.

* * *

  


            They arrived at the edge of Robotropolis, the black capital city, which had been transformed from the bright and radiant capitol it once was under the King.  
            "This is it," he said, remembering it from his memory of when he had fought alongside the Freedom Fighters before the Calm.    
            "So, what are we doing?"  
            "Looking."  
            "For what?"  
            "I don't know. Anything that might reveal where Robotnik's keeping the emerald, I guess."  
            "Want me to go?" Espio asked.  
            This question brought back memories to Knuckles, of their escapades on Angel Island after the invasion.  He and the Chaotix had staged an assault on a robot encampment in a valley, which perhaps had been similar in purpose: to find information; then, though, it had been more general, seeking understanding of just what was going on; the invasion had occurred and Knuckles had been unable to grasp just what was happening, where these robots were coming from, why they were here.  And Vector had been captured; they also sought information on him.  And Espio and Mighty, who had accompanied him, had been hesitant to descend the cliff, into the ravine, and attack the robot encampment; "aren't we trying to get _away_ from them?" Espio had said.  But Knuckles had convinced them, saying they would be covert about it, and that Espio could sneak in under cloak, and the machines would be none the wiser.  But once he had convinced them to follow him down into the ravine, he had disregarded the plan, and had simply leaped out and torn the robots apart.  And then he had lost faculty, lost awareness of his senses; he had seemed almost to black out; everything had vanished and he had simply felt his attacks, and guided his blows subconsciously.  Espio had called out for him, but he had not heard.  And when it was over, Espio had questioned his sanity, suggested he get some rest.  
            The memory came back now.  "Alright, why don't you sneak in? We'll know what we're looking for once we get inside."  His words didn't really mean anything; he was simply reenacting the scene from his memory.  
            "Aye. I'd rather forget that one."  
            "No, really, why don't you sneak in? Scout out the area, and we can decide where to go from there."  So he wasn't simply reenacting.  The memory may have come back, but he was serious now.  
            "Alright."  Espio vanished.  He set out into the city to scout out the structures in the area.  
  
            And when he returned, he spoke.  "I found one building in particular that looks like it might serve for briefing. How do you want to proceed? Loud and clear, or discreetly? We can either let the man know we're here, or try to keep out of sight. We can draw attention or try to stay hidden."  
            "Obviously the latter sounds better," said Charmy.  
            "I suppose so," said Knuckles.  It was interesting, too; just after the invasion he would have always chosen action, confrontation, the simplest plan regardless of strategy.  Now he was more calculating, more strategic; yet still he lacked in this area.  But he knew it would be wiser to keep from drawing attention if he wished to complete his task without being drawn fully into the war.  And if it was obvious that he was hostile to the lord of this city, then it would be hard to convince him again to allow him to keep out of the conflict.  
            "Then let's draw the robots away from the exterior of the building," Espio pointed, "and then sneak in quietly. If there are still robots inside, hopefully we can take them out without drawing attention from the outside."  
           And it seemed like too much work to Knuckles; it would be simple, after all, to simply clobber any robots in his path.  But, he realized, that could draw attention to him on a much larger scale; and he did not want to face another army.  "Fine."  
            "Charmy, come with me, and we'll create a diversion. I'll grab them while invisible and then lure them away with Charmy. Once the coast is clear, you three sneak in; if there's anyone inside, off 'em. I'll meet you inside."  
            Espio immediately vanished again, and then he was off to complete his task.  
  
            Knuckles saw the robots in front of the building, and these he recognized.  They were the same make of robot as had invaded Angel Island.  So at least he felt some security in his recognition; these he could handle if need be.  Knuckles watched as they were arrested by nothing – though they probably saw the bee hovering nearby and ascribed responsibility to it; and he saw them lured away.  So he motioned to Mighty and Vector and proceeded with caution toward the building.  Ensuring the departing robots had their back to him, he reached the door and pulled it open.  Much to his relief, there was nobody inside.  
            "Well, I guess we'd best start looking."  
            And they looked, and found much useless documentation, until Vector found one of interest: "'Briefing on 5-C; published by _Snively_; 3236020000; Your continuing mission is to locate the emerald; your assigned area can be confirmed through a data terminal at location entropy:operua5assign5cposits8823 as of this writing. You are to report to me at least once every three days on your findings'."  
            Mighty found another document of interest, and read it: "'UA-5; The reacquiring of the Chaos emerald'," he read.  "'Status change to _complete_; status changed by _K_; 3236040x0x; mission closed; notes: has been delivered to outpost Z-3, pending meeting with our lord'."  
            "Outpost Z-3, eh?"  
            "How are we supposed to find that? I don't see any maps."  
            "Let's keep looking."  
           "'UA-4; The construction of the new design prototype; status change to _in-production_; authorized by _Ivo Robotnik_; 3236030087; design has been authorized and production has been initiated; first batch has been completed and dispatched; awaiting arrival of next batches; UA-7 has been added to database'."  
            "I wonder what that's all about."  
            "Could be the new robots."  
            "That's not our concern. Just look for stuff on the emerald."  
            "We should head for Z-3, then."  
            "We don't know where it is."  
            "'Ay, I think I found it."  Vector held up a document.  Knuckles took it from him.  It was a rather crude, general map of not the entire city, but of the general vicinity they were located in.  Z-3 was not marked deliberately, but a large cluster was denoted 'Z'.  Their current location was somewhere within 'W'; 'Z' was also along the border, and if they were to travel more east they would find it.  It wasn't enough information to spell out to them were Z-3 was, but it was enough to get them moving in the right direction.  
            Just then the door opened.  And Espio materialized.  "They'll be here shortly; I don't think they're allowed to have their attention diverted forever; they're on their way back; we should get out of here."  Charmy zipped in, and hovered over his shoulder.  "We should move before they come in firing range."  
            "Alright, let's move east to Z."  
            "To Z?"  
            "I'll fill you in on the way; let's go."  
            Knuckles quickly brushed past Espio and out the door.  He looked off in the distance and saw the robots marching back towards him. They must notice him, he thought, but he didn't spend time confirming his presumptions, as he dashed back toward the cover he had taken while Espio had scouted out the area.  His friends all followed suit, and then once all were together, Knuckles spoke.  "Alright, let's get out of here. We've got a lead on the emerald. East is the Z area; we want to find Z-3."  
            His friends nodded, and Knuckles immediately started off on the eastward circumnavigation of the border of the city.  
  
            _"You're doing well, Kouken-san."_  
            "If you say so."  
            _"You've matured in capability. You've scoured the air, with no tangible end, and out of the air you have taken the thread most linked to your intangible objective. You're moving, and forward."_  
            "Great."  
            _"You tire of my voice?"_  
            "No. I just have nothing to say."  
            _"I shall tell you a story, if you do not object."_  
            "Alright."  
            _"Once, the echidna of the __Island__ had become embroiled in conflict with another, militant species of the __Island__. It had begun as a mere tension, created in part due to the rift in technology between the species; but it had escalated into resentment, hatred, and, finally, war. The echidnas feared catastrophe, and resolved to stop the war before it could erupt. So they did, through an ethereal segregation."_  
            Knuckles waited for the voice to continue, and, after realizing that the story was over, said, "What? That's it? That's not a story. What happened? How did they end the war?"  
            _"All in due time, Koukennin."_  
            "What the hell? You're just being an asshole now. Don't start telling me a story, only to stop midway through and remind me of how little I know, how many unanswered questions I have, and how much you love to blind me and keep secrets from me."  
            _"Yet, though you may not realize it, I have just revealed one more piece of the great big Everything that will come in time."_  
            "Thanks for nothing."  
            _"When the time arrives, all my messages will become clear, and fall into place."_  
            "Why don't you save all your stories until then, okay?"  
            _"As you wish, Koukennin."_  



End file.
